As the group enters the kitchen, Goodwife Thanato is overcome with panic and she runs back to the safety of the Inn, leaving the group alone in her kitchen.

Feldard approached the trap door in the kitchen. Such crude craftsmanship! But, he could detect nothing amiss with the door itself. Doing his best not to show a hint of fear, the dwarf slowly opened the door, carefully not making a sound. Opening the door reveals a ladder leading down into the darkeness of the cellar.

Saeth sighed as she looked at the pitch black maw of the cellar. Demon or not, there would be no room down there to swing a blade, and that would be most discomfiting. She glanced at the two humans. They might not notice the cramped fighting areas, but the darkness would be a further fear for them. The dwarf, of course, would be quite used to living in grimy holes in the ground.

Appraising the situation, Maruc glanced around the kitchen area until he located what he was looking for, a lantern. “Would you mind holding this,” Maruc offered the lantern up to Miklos, “as I may need both hands.” Miklos accepted the lantern and lit it.

“Somebody’ll have to find the courage to step in, I suppose”, she intoned with a bravado borne of certainty. “I imagine we may have questions for the lady of the house–if nothing eats us first.” Her bell-like laugh was quite at odds with her cyclopedian countennance.

Hands resting near her daggers, Saeth strode down into the dark. Feldard, not to be outdone by an elf, boasted, “I fear no beast or foe!” and stepped after.

Maruc hoped the cellar was empty, he couldn’t hear anything else to suggest otherwise. Then a thought occured to him; Wasn’t Seath was the first to make comment as to the wisdom of jumping into unknown cellars? Oh well. As Maruc prepared himself to descend he trid to wrack his memory for something appropriate to say at their funeral in the even of the worst. He’d never have to make readings for non humans but he was glad he had his ceremonial robes with him, just in case. It showed an utter lack of respect otherwise.

“If you don’t mind Maruc, I would like to decend next.” He hoped it sounded brave, but his machismo was somewhat damaged as he missed the first step of the stairs and almosted pitched himself into the inky darkness of the cellar below. He stifled a curse as he righted himself and proceeded with more caution.

The second reason for going next was more to do with self preservation. The last thing he wanted was to be stabbed in the back in a tight tunnel, he didn’t wear armour and he much rather be surrounded by friends who did. At the bottom of the stairs he held up the lantern and peered arround the room, then he moved out of the way to allow Maruc space.

“We must be prepared for any situation. I have certain arcane knowledge that allows me to force creatures into a natural sleep.” Miklos followed Marucs’ advice as kept his voice to a horse whisper. ” If I am lucky or the creatures are small I may be able to affect many, but do not count on it. The sleep is natural, although induced magically, so they may be woken easily. I suggest if we are dealing with evil villains we knock them unconsious whilest they slumber and bind them and take them to the authorities for judgement.”

One by one, the group climbs down the ladder into the dry dirt cellar. “What have you discovered? Is there candle wax on the floor? Fresh footprints? Let me see.” Miklos cast around with the light.

Bags are piled against the walls, and cobwebs fill the corners. A sack of dried apples is spilled across the floor.
As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Maruc thought he’d add a cheery, whispered comment. “Not that I’m suggesting that we are dealing with the supernatural but you do realise some creatures have the ability not to be seen by mortal eyes?” He caught Feldard’s glance and decided the ‘glass-half-full-optimistic’ approach was better. “But I guess you would have found that out by now, so no problem.” Maruc gave him a winning smile.

“Also,” Maruc continued in his low voice, “I think it would be wise to try to keep our voices down as we do not wish to give advanced notice to whoever was just here.” Then he realised he was in the presence of combat veterans and thought better of it than to teach them their job.

A squeeking and scratching noise comes from the southwest corner. Turning to look, they see the source of the noise is a large rat running along the wall, scuttling out of sight. Feldard, with his keen dwarven awareness of the underground, senses something amiss. Where did that rat go?, he wondered. Careful investigation reveals a hidden entrance to a small passage. He was able to discern that the passage hade be dug out relatively recently.

As Feldard searches the corner, clattering noise and whispery sounds fill the room, but the source is not immediately apparent.

At the faint voices Miklos immediately stopped. Listening intently, the clicking of armour and weapons, the shuffling of footsteps and even the heavy breathing of his friends threatened to overwhelm his straining ears. Were they human voices? He angrily waved Maruc to silence as he saw he his mouth open, probably to say something glaringly obvious like “I bet there’s a secret exit over there…”

Ignoring the look of protestation from the Halavist he fumbled at his belt for his dagger. Drawing it he pressed himself to the wall nearest the stairs. Feeling the cool dampness of the wall behind him he felt his hackles rise as the voices ebbed and flowed through the air like will-o-wisps. His anxiety matched his mounting excitement. As the minutes stretched the chattering seemed to Miklos to be getting louder, he was staring intently at the walls. The odd flickering shadows cast about by the lantern light developed malignant personalities of their own that seemed to hunt around searching for him. Even his friends faces started to deform in his minds’ eye into rictus masks of horror. His white knuckle grip on the dagger was the only thing that was reassuring. Cold sweat trickled into his eyes and he automatically dashed them away with his sleeve. He viciously rubbed at his face and calmed his breathing. This had the effect of banishing his growing fear, he mustn’t let his friends know about his stress induced claustrophobia, to take his mind off it he pressed his wrist against the hot lid of the lantern. The sharp hot pain was enough to focus him again.

Maruc stood back as Miklos and the others searched around the cramped cellar. Feldard seemed to have found something interesting but then came the chittering noise just at the edge of hearing. What was that? he thought. He turned to Miklos and started to ask “Do you hear that?” but didn’t get past ‘D..’ as the expression on Miklos’s face looked quite wild.

He only ever seen faces like in the sanitarium at the cloister. He wondered if the others had noticed, Miklos would need watching, perhaps he might need a herbal infusion. Nothing too strong because he seemed to be in control, barely. This was worrying, this sort of thing was unpredictable, especially at stressful times. Miklos had pressed himself against the wall and looked as white as the whitewash coating the cellar.

Maruc sidestepped over to Saeth and distracted her silently thumbing over his shoulder at Miklos, but he seemed to have recovered a little so if she’d noticed his ‘turn’ Maruc couldn’t guess. Maruc shrugged and shifted his heavy cloak back freeing his shield arm. He unhooked his footmans flail resting the chains on the floor to muffle its noise and punch gripped his shield. He gave Saeth a wink and a grin and prepared himself for whatever Feldard discovered.

Miklos hissed as loudly as he dared to attract the others attention. He urgently pointed with his dagger hand toward the corner with the pile of sacks and grain. He pointed the lantern in the same direction.

His heart was thumping in his chest and could feel his hands shaking but he gritted his teeth and waited. Feldard grinned a wicked Dwarven smile as he hefted his huge dwarf-rune encrusted war-mace as he advanced toward the offending corner. Miklos smiled weakly back at him and valiantly waved his silvered dagger.

Maruc spun sharply at the hissing noise from Miklos then he turned his attention to corner indicated. Forcing the tension out of his body Maruc calmed his breathing and allowed his arms to hang loosely by his sides. He started to bounce slowly on the balls of his feet, a nervous disposition he’d aquired whilest awaiting the ‘corrective redemption’ of his Reverand Father, then he realised he was probably dead. Maruc rufully thought; ‘Well I’ll not be suffering from that anymore…’, then he looked at his bouncing feet and sighed.

Echoes hissed around the small chamber, serpent sounds betraying any attempt to place them. The room appeared empty, save for the rat, and a small passage hidden in one corner. A passage far too small for the elfling’s tastes–to crawl on your knees into a hole like that would get you captured by kobolds or dwarves, just like Ravenna the Fair.

Saeth turned sharply at a whispering sound behind her. Her hand jumped to the hilt of her sword, then relaxed as she saw it was the youth, gesticulating wildly with his dagger. She glanced at the priest Maruc, who was pointing at the boy. Yes, she would have to show him how to hold a dagger. That grip certainly wouldn’t do! She nodded back to the elder human, affirming that she got his message.

But more pressing things beckoned. Miklos seemed to be pointing at the bags of grain stacked in the far corner. Was there something back there, hidden behind them? They should be easy enough to shift.

Before she could move, the dwarf stepped forward, brandishing his mace. Saeth would’ve just as soon he lifted the bags out of the way than murder them, but silence was of the essence now. Well, this was dwarven subtlety in action. She stepped in front of the trembling youth to shield him from whatever might come. Slowly drawing a dagger, she waited, ready to pinion anything that lept from the corner.